Light in the Dark
by VoyICJ
Summary: A response to the latest chelsie-anon prompt.


Obviously none of these characters or the show from which they originated belong to me.

This story is dedicated first and foremost to the lovely Kouw, who offered encouragement and improvements and more or less made this post happen. If you haven't read her beautiful stories, it's high time that you do!

It's also dedicated to all those wonderful authors who have provided me with such excellent reading pleasure in the past.

**Light in the Dark**

Elsie watches out the backdoor as the last of the hallboys trots up the drive towards the village. She's been sending her "chicks" home for Mothering Sunday for twenty years, she should be used to it by now. That feeling of emptiness, empty house, empty table, empty heart. Nothing to be done about it at this stage of life. Taking a deep breath and pulling her shawl tighter against the cold March wind blowing through the courtyard, she ventures outside, hoping against hope that the bitter cold would numb her mind and emotions.

Charles had noticed her strange melancholic mood for a few days now. He had briefly worried about its origin until he had realized that the same dark mood usually took hold of her every year around the same time. His heart broke with the implications of his realization.

When he saw her walking outside with only her thin shawl as protection against winter's last fierce attempt to avert spring's arrival, he knew he had to follow her and make sure she was alright.

Downton's butler found the wayward housekeeper after only a few minutes of looking. She stood behind the house in front of Downton's vast grounds. The lonely figure standing there a far cry from the usually so strong and dignified housekeeper everyone knew.

He came to stand next to her silently, his arms held tightly behind his back. She didn't turn to acknowledge his arrival. Her eyes stayed fixed on some point in the distance only she seemed to see.

"What am I doing here Mr. Carson?" she asked softly after a few minutes.

Her question might have met all the formal requirements of a rhetorical one but he wasn't quite sure whether it truly was. He studied her profile, her eyes still gazing firmly into the distance.

"I'm not sure what you're asking," he replied gruffly. She squared her shoulders as if somehow steeling herself against what she was about to say.

"I'm simply wondering what use my life has. What will I leave behind when I'm gone? Has a life really been worthwhile if there's no one to remember you? Has it really been worthwhile if you have no children or grandchildren who will lovingly retell stories of you? Has a life been worthwhile if it hasn't been filled with love of the most unconditional kind… if you've been unloved?" She broke off before she let all her sorrows pour forth – before she scared him off once and for all by talking about her deepest, most bitter regrets.

Out of the corner of her eyes she saw him shuffling on his feet awkwardly. She had made him uncomfortable – she should have known she would.

Before she could think of some inane statement that would allow him to make a hasty escape, he began speaking.

"I suppose…" he began haltingly, as if testing his voice. "I suppose I can understand why you might feel that way, but let me offer you my opinion on the matter." He took a deep breath. "I think you will be remembered for years to come. Maids will remember your efficiency and skill when they move on to other jobs and instruct younger girls in the techniques you have shown them. Footmen and hallboys will remember your uncanny talent to keep the crabby butler in check. Miss Sibbie and Master George will remember the kind woman with the funny accent that always slipped them a biscuit when she thought no one was looking. Anna, Mr. Bates, Daisy and countless others will remember your kindness, your devotion and your gentle caring and they will make sure that you and your character are remembered in the way they bring up their children."

He stopped briefly and Mrs. Hughes smiled softly. His words had been the kindest he had ever shared with her and yet they hadn't really managed to fill the void she felt; the emptiness that threatened to engulf her. As if he sensed that his words had been inadequate to ease her pain, he coughed softly and then continued in a voice that was so soft that the housekeeper had to incline her head slightly towards him to be fully able to hear what he was saying.

"As far as being unloved goes…" his eyes were now fixed on the same spot in the distance on which her eyes were still trained. "For the first half of your life I'm sure you were much beloved by your parents and your sister."

Images of Scotland unbiddenly sprang up before her inner eye – a tiny cottage, strong winters, hard work, bickering about milking the cows, ribbons and scrappy dolls. But yes, she supposed she had been loved. She had to shake her head to physically dispel the memories when she realized that he had continued speaking.

"And for the second half of your life you've been loved deeply, quietly and unreservedly by the butler of the house you're working at."

Her breathing hitched and she finally turned to face him – studied his broad, stiff shoulders, his handsome face with those expressive eyes that were still fixed ahead. He didn't turn towards her but continued speaking.

"If you find yourself able to wait a few more months, only until Lady Mary has settled herself into her new situation – whatever she may choose that to be – that butler would very much like to be awarded the opportunity to openly prove to you just how much he appreciates you."

There was silence until he took a deep breath and turned towards her. He took in the slight blush on her cheeks, her deep blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears and the soft yet dazzling smile on her lips and felt his own apprehensive, stiff posture relax with unbridled relief.

"I'd very much like to wait for that butler," she said gently.

"That's good then," he nodded numbly and together they turned again to look out over Downton's vast grounds.

After a few moments she pulled the shawl tighter around herself again, shuddering in the cold.

"We should head back inside," he told her quietly.

She sighed deeply. She did not want the moment to end but was pragmatic enough to realize that it was simply too cold and they still had work to do. When she turned towards the house, she was surprised to find him offering his arm to her.

She took it – once again having to blink back tears – and gave it the gentlest squeeze. In return she felt him pulling her closer and she thought in quiet contentment that in the span of just one hour her future had stopped being painted in dark and bleak colours but instead offered a glimmer of bright white light.

* * *

Well I hope you liked it and if you did, maybe you'd like to leave a review? Please?


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